


Do You Think I'm Pretty?

by gingerteaandsympathy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerteaandsympathy/pseuds/gingerteaandsympathy
Summary: Rose asks the Doctor a very important question.





	Do You Think I'm Pretty?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fluffy February, because I can never get enough of Nine and Rose ducking around their feelings. These two are so repressed that their URT could be used as rocket fuel.

"Doctor?"

Rose's voice carried from the jumpseat, where she'd been quietly reading a first edition of Dickens' _Little Dorrit_ , down to where the Doctor lay beneath the grating. The sonic between his teeth, he made a noise that sounded something like a grunt of inquiry.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

His hands froze, wires tangled between his fingers. The sonic tumbled out of his mouth and onto his chest. "What?" The word came out far more clipped than he'd intended.

His body still frozen in surprise, he was powerless to move as she shuffled off of the jumpseat. He tracked the sound of her feet padding across the grating and then the length of her black tights entering his field of vision. She crouched down and sat, her back against the console and her legs outstretched, glancing over her shoulder to look down at him.

She was still wearing that denim skirt from earlier, but she'd shed the multicolored scarf and her own denim jacket, instead electing to steal...

"Is that my jacket?" He asked sharply.

"I was cold," she replied with a shrug. "I asked you a question."

"You have your own jacket, though. Loads of jackets, if the size of your duffel is to be believed."

She sighed impatiently, wiggling her stocking-clad toes. "Doctor. I'm serious. I need to know."

"If I think you're pretty?" He scowled around the word 'pretty' as if it was a curse, or something that tasted completely repulsive. Of course, she couldn't really see his expression, with her back mostly to him. He knew she'd be offended if she _could_  see it.

"Yep," she replied, emphatically popping the 'p.'

His hands suddenly lurched back into motion, almost of their own volition. One hand swept down to retrieve the sonic screwdriver, hoping it's buzz would soothe the sound of blood rushing to his ears. He grunted, "Why?"

"Why what?"

He rolled his eyes. Was she being deliberately obtuse? "Why do you need to know?"

She shrugged, the leather of his jacket creaking as she moved. "Just something Mickey said." Her feet wiggled again, back and forth in a windshield-wiper motion. The Doctor tried not to think too fondly of how, like him, she never stayed still.

She didn't appear to want to continue her explanation, instead electing to wait in silence.

Fighting a sigh, the Doctor asked, "What did Mickey say?"

"Well, he said I look fantastic... you know, earlier. But he's also been seeing this girl, Trisha Delaney. She used to be a bit big, but he says she's lost weight, yeah? And she was always very..." Rose hesitated. "Very, well... you know..."

"I'm afraid I don't," the Doctor replied cheerfully.

"Voluptuous," Rose blurted. "Curvy, you know? She always had a great... rear bumper, if you know what I mean."

He couldn't help but grin at her nervous tone of voice. "And what's this got to do with you?"

"Well, it's just... I'm not very... voluptuous," she hurried through the word as quickly as possible, "am I? I'm just sort of... I guess... normal. Bit boring, I suppose. And I've got the jaw, you know, and the big mouth. Kids used to call me a chipmunk in school. I don't imagine I'm _very_  pretty, but I wanted to get your opinion."

Having connected the loose wires and therefore run out of distractions, the Doctor finally sat up, his head popping out of the grating. "My opinion?" She nodded. "Me. An alien."

"Well, but... you're a man, aren't you?" She sounded like she was genuinely asking, and it tinged his ears pink in irritation. He lugged his body out of the grating and sat next to her, but facing her, with his legs dangling into the hole in the floor.

"Rose Tyler, that's the _second_  time you've questioned my manhood," he scolded. "A bloke could get a complex."

She rolled her eyes, but her grin was affectionate. He watched her little hands tuck his large jacket closer around her body, and he involuntarily shivered. It was a bit chilly in just his jumper, or so he told himself. He'd really be needing that jacket back.

She didn't seem to notice his eyes on her and said, "I just wanted a man's opinion, that's all."

"And you didn't go to Jack?"

Rose giggled. "He's not what I'd call... discerning."

The Doctor grinned, the expression slow to be coaxed onto his face. He could smile well enough, but it always made him look a bit mad. Rose had a way of tempering the mania in his smiles - made him want to laugh just for the pleasure of it. She had a way of turning his smile boyish and, he suspected, quite daft. 

"No, I suppose not," he chuckled. And then, seriously, "But you think I am? Discerning, that is."

Rose shrugged again. Bloody useless human habit, terrible at conveying any information at all. "I guess, yeah." Her warm eyes drifted up to meet his. "Yeah, I think so."

Rose was always like that - always reminding him how young she was, and how exquisitely, beautifully painful it was to _be_  so young. For her, the question was simple - pretty or not pretty? But to him, it was more complicated than that. 

Before he could respond to say so, she went on, "When we first met, I just... I wondered why. Why me? I'm not terribly clever. I suppose I was brave and saved your life, but I'd hate to think you brought me along out of... I dunno, obligation--"

He stopped that thought in its tracks. "No, it wasn't that at all."

"Then what was it?" she replied, her voice a bit raised. "I'm not smart, haven't even got my A levels. And I'm not terribly witty, or street smart, or strong." Her head dropped, her focus entirely on the tips of her toes, which still wiggled impatiently. "I just wondered... if maybe you brought me along because I was, well... because you thought I was pretty."

When she looked up again, she looked so frightened of his answer. Her feet twitched nervously, and he found his right hand dropping to her ankle, stilling her.

She felt small in his grip, and he was certain he could wrap his fingers around the entire circumference of her ankle if he wanted to. He was relieved when she stopped jittering, but her eyes had gone wide.

Even through the fabric of her tights, he could feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat and detect the undercurrent of anxiety, the staleness of hours-old fear, along with the fresh, rich feeling that she carried with her like a trail of perfume. It was this exuberance that she could never quite repress, and it flared up when they were together - when they were traveling or running or exploring. Her body right now was a cocktail of chemicals, one of which was something like pleasure; it had been stimulated by his touch on her ankle. Trying to appear casual, he removed his hand and set it back in his lap.

"I didn't 'choose you,' if you could even call it that," he said dismissively, "because I thought you were pretty." He let the words sink in a moment - watched her eyelashes flutter, and her eyes turn downward again. "I don't know why I asked you to come, other than that I liked you. You seemed curious, and bright, and I thought you might... do me some good." The last words came out very low, almost a whisper.

"Oh," she replied, equally quiet.

"It's mostly selfish, I suppose. But you seemed like you deserved more than a job and a flat and carpets and curtains. I thought I could give you what you needed, and you could give me a bit of..." He trailed off, unsure of how he'd end the sentence. 

Light? Companionship? Kindness?

Peace?

What exactly did he want from her? 

Slowly, Rose pushed her back off the console and shifted around the hole in the floor, so she was next to him. She let her own legs dangle into the grating, much shorter than his. Her stocking-covered feet looked delicate next to his heavy work boots. She let them swing as she settled next to him, her head on his shoulder.

"Have I, Doctor?"

He swallowed. "Have you what?"

"Done you good."

Her hair brushed against his cheek. It was so soft, and it smelled faintly floral and faintly of bleach from her box dye, and faintly like the warm tang of her scalp. She smelled like Rose - a scent that had come to permeate every corner of the TARDIS. Like baking cookies or sizzling bacon, he could always follow her scent and find her. He huffed an exhale into her hair, letting the softness soothe him.

When he didn't answer, she pulled away and said, "Doctor?"

"Yes, Rose," he replied gruffly, working to meet her eyes. "You have."

An incandescent smile flickered over her face and then she settled her head back onto his shoulder. He wanted so much to press his fingers to her temples, find out just what that smile meant. Was the warmth in it really meant for him?

Her tone a bit lighter, she said, "Should we really be having this conversation in front of old Mags?" Her head motioned toward the egg that sat up on top of the console.

The Doctor chuckled. "You mean Blon?"

She nodded, her hair tickling his nose.

"I don't think she cares much about whether or not I flatter your vanity," he replied.

"Hey!" Rose protested, pulling away from him again. He really wished she'd stop doing that. "It's not vanity! I just had..." Her face was suddenly overtaken by a blush.

Her shyness sent his eyebrows rocketing. "You had...?" he prompted.

She sighed and leaned back on the TARDIS grating, so he had to lay back to get level with her. "Okay, maybe my motives weren't great. I had a, erm, a bet."

"A bet?"

Her face empinkened even further. Goodness, she had a lovely blush.

He suddenly wondered when he'd begun to rate blood flow in terms of aesthetics.

"A bet with Jack."

His eyebrow twitched again, but he could hardly help the flare of annoyance that the captain's name caused. Jack was supremely irritating. Especially now that he and Rose were such good friends.

She relaxed fully onto the grating, her braids fanning out on either side of her face. "He had some... questions about our relationship, when he came aboard."

"What kind of questions?"

It seemed impossible that she could get any redder, but she did. "Not the polite kind," she said evasively. "I explained that we weren't like that, that I didn't even think that you _could be_  attracted to a human, with your... you know, superior Time Lord biology and such. I said I wasn't even sure if you found me aesthetically pleasing at all, or if I had too few heads or, I dunno, too many teeth or something."

"Teeth?" The Doctor turned on his side to face her better, leaning on his elbow. His legs were up and on the grating now, and he hovered over her in a way that he hoped distracted her as much as it distracted him.

Judging by her pupilary response, she was indeed distracted. "I dunno what you're into - you're an alien!" Her feet still swung nervously, her leg occasionally bumping his.

"No, you're the alien," he corrected coolly. "But do go on. This is fascinating."

Rose's eyes slid away from his. "Anyway, he bet that if I asked you, you'd tell me that you _do_  find me pretty. He says you're just... high and mighty because you're, erm... well, never mind that. And I told him he was mad, obviously. And he is! Because I was right."

His brows furrowed, and her eyes seemed to trail back towards his face to observe the expression. "Right about what?"

"Well, about you!" Her eyes were darting everywhere now, and he didn't have to touch her to feel the way her heartbeat stirred the air between them. "You... you _don't_  think I'm p-pretty."

He'd never heard Rose stutter before. Now, _that_  was interesting.

"At what point in our conversation did I say that?" he asked seriously, fighting to keep the amusement out of his tone. Humans were brilliant when they got nervous - well, actually, they were quite stupid, but the phenomenon itself was fascinating. Time Lords fell into fight, flight, or freeze mode. Humans seemed prone to... well, fluster.

Rose's eyes widened. "So, you _do_  think I'm pretty?" 

The Doctor stared down at the human girl beside him. He had a functional grasp of nearly every human language, and plenty of others besides, and none of the words he knew could express what she was like to him. So, instead, he went for the easy answer. "I didn't say that either, did I?"

Now it was Rose's turn to furrow her brow, only it was more of a crinkle, and he found it infinitely adorable. "Are you having a go at me?" she asked, a note of irritation in her voice.

He shook his head. "No, I just think you're drawing conclusions based on insufficient data."

"Meaning?"

"That I haven't said either way."

She rolled her eyes. "You think you're so clever."

He grinned. "I was striving for enigmatic."

"More like ego-maniac," she replied, playing off of his words. "Listen, it's a stupid bet, and one I was fine with winning. There's no need to rub my face in it." She was moving her arms, tensing the muscles as if she was going to launch herself upright. As much as she was trying to act normal, he could feel the tension rolling off of her.

She was a human, and humans hated rejection. Even _perceived_  rejection.

"Rose," he said sharply, "I think you're more than pretty. I've spent this entire conversation looking for the proper word - and trust me, I have a thousand years of etymological study on my side - but I can't find one. You're not pretty, you're something else." His brusque tone faltered. "Something much more."

Rose's cheeks were pink now, but not from embarrassment. He could tell in the way her mouth was slightly raised at the corners, and her teeth had snuck out to bite her bottom lip. She was pleased.

His philological failings had apparently paid her a sufficient compliment. The corners of his own lips seemed determined to creep upwards at the thought. Rose was always interesting to look at when she was pleased.

She turned on her side, to face him as he faced her. Their faces were close to level, and her eyes looked quite golden in the low light. "I think you're something else too, Doctor," she said. As she spoke, her smile grew until it scrunched up her button nose and created little dents between her eyebrows. He loved those silly little dents.

He loved _her_.

The thought didn't strike him, so much as render him an idiot.

He smiled back at her, and because his brain had shorted out and he couldn't think of anything to advance the conversation, he said, "Thanks."

The air between them felt warm and syrupy, and he thought he could just slip into her mind and hopefully her mouth, if he were willing to exert a little energy. But his body felt heavy, maybe a bit punch drunk on her pheromones and the way her tongue had slipped out past her teeth when she smiled.

He thought he might kiss her.

It was a new thought.

Well, not a _brand new_  thought, but one barely handled, and certainly not one he'd ever considered acting on. It hadn't been a thought, previously, so much as a wild and outlandish and reprehensible fantasy. 

He leaned a bit closer. 

A voice echoed across the console room. "Fascinating. So, I take it I won the bet?"

Rose flopped back onto the grating with a sigh. "Jack, your sense of timing is uncanny. And this one," she jerked her thumb toward the Doctor, "is the literal Lord of Time."

He tried not to preen under her casual use of the title. Instead, he put on his very best _Oncoming Storm_ face and glared at the interruption. "Get out, Jack," the Doctor ground out.

The captain laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh no, Doc. I've come to collect."

At this, Rose's hands flew to her face. "Shit," came her muffled whisper.

The Doctor sighed, also falling back on the grating. He turned his head to look at her - her and her perpetually pink cheeks. "What was the bet?"

She peeked out from between her fingers, her voice thready as she replied, "That I'd make you skinny dip with us in the lagoon room."

The Doctor's eyebrows very nearly launched off of his face. "You've done it before then, without me?"

Rose shook her head. Her whole body was awash with the heat of embarrassment. "Never... starkers, no."

The Time Lord felt his own body heat up a bit, but he tamped down the aeons-old response. Rose was still glancing out from between her fingers and Jack wore the smuggest smile in the history of time.

The Doctor groaned. "Fine, but if one of us gets eaten by the Creature, I can't be blamed."

Rose giggled. 

He smiled, unable to stop himself. "Rose Tyler, you are trouble."

She was beaming now, hurrying to stand in her enthusiasm. She held out her hand to him - her hand which barely poked out of his long, leather sleeve - to help him up. When he righted himself to tower over her, she stared up at him from under her lashes.

He wondered if she knew how much he'd do for her, how far he'd go. Into the lagoon and much, much further.

Her tongue poked out. "Quite right, too." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this little bit of romantic fluffy drivel.


End file.
